HANDOUT 1
Excerpts from Bounty From the Sheep - Tserendash Namkhainyambuu
(translated from Mongolian and adapted by Mary Rossabi)

The following passages are found in the life story of Tserendash Namkhainvainbuu, a contemporary Mongolian herder. In this short book, he describes his early life, his family, his education and his experiences as a shepherd. His success in raising thousands of sheep above the quota demanded by the State, won him many honors and privileges and the title of Hero of Labor.

After the downfall of socialism in the early 1990s, Namkhainyambuu served in the Parliament for about four years and moved with his wife and nine children from northwestern Mongolia to the outskirts of the capital city of Man Baatar where he lives today. He and his wife, Jargal, decided not to return to their former home so that their children could receive a better education. in the capital city. The State gave them an apartment in the city where the children live during the week and come home to the family ger, or tent/home, on weekends. However. Namkhainyambuu could not raise enough animals to feed his family, nor could he enjoy the profits from the wool, meat and hides of the sheep as he did when he lived in the northwest, so he supplements his income by working as a "concierge" in a university dormitory. The selections below demonstrate Namkhainyambuu's expertise as a herder as well as his ability to describe clearly and colorfully the life of a Mongolian shepherd.

My childhood wasn't that special or different from that of my peers. I was born in the sixth month of 1948, which is the year of the mouse according to the solar calendar, in the area of Tariat River in northwestern Mongolia. My father's family name was Shaj, and my mother's surname was Tseren.

My grandfather Shaj had many brothers and sisters. He was an educated man who served the state as a clerk, although he did not have the power to make decisions. He was considered rather poor, having only sixty goats, two horses, and seldom more than ten sheep. My father was the youngest child and the only boy among seven girls.

All of my extended family were delighted that my parents' firstborn child was a son. My parents then went on to have four more children, two daughters and two sons.

As I was the first boy in the family, I was somewhat spoiled, at least until I went to school. It was in 1957 that my sister and I entered school. And it was then that I sat at a desk for the first time. Our teacher was an honest and proper young man who had handsome penmanship, painted well, and could belt his del very beautifully. I can still picture all of this clearly.

The school was well equipped. It was housed in five or six simple buildings, which included lesson rooms, a kitchen, and a dormitory complex. But because of the inadequate number of dormitory beds, few children could sleep at school, and many went home each day to their families. In the spring and fall, we went to school by horse, riding a distance of five to ten kilometers. We left home at dawn, our cotton schoolbags stuffed with lesson books, and all rode out together, two to a horse. On the return trip, it was all right to dawdle and play a bit on the open steppe; somwtimes we had slingshot competitions on horseback. The school year began in autumn and ended in the spring. We spent the summer in the countryside, riding horses and looking after sheep, giving no thought to the reconvening of school in the fall. We children particularly enjoyed making the horses run fast. In addition, riding a fast horse was a good way of escaping from the evening milking. Unfortunately, I wasn't a good horseman. In my community I was even rejected from training horses for the long-distance running, so I had to herd sheep and prepare the cows for milking.

Unforgettable Adventures

Although we had many lovely summers midst green grass, rain and shining sun, there were also dry years when we had to find new areas of vegetation. In one such arid year, we spent a happy summer in the neighboring province of Uvs in the eastern wooded county of Dalan. "When there is not enough, we share" was our philosophy and there were no disputes over pastureland. Likewise, when the winter was severe, we shared our land with other families. Today, the same situation continues and the people from Zavhan and Uvs provinces live like brothers in peace and prosperity.

Our county was near the great Mongolian desert, which we passed through with our herds on the way to our winter quarters. We prepared most of the night before crossing the desert. By dawn the pack animals were loaded and we began moving. After crossing the desert, we stopped for a few days and then we would move again. The cattle needed to be tended both day and night, and the skill of the striong herders was necessary. Even to this day, we move in this fashion, but we don't load our children onto camels anymore. Now we transport them, and the old women, across the desert by truck, so that they can arrive early and prepare greetings for the men [and the younger women] who with the herds struggle across the sands.

Through a combination of steppe and desert, we moved and settled our herds in different pastures, according tom the season. Families settled for a long time near each other and became like brothers. The children became friends, but because they were on the move, they had to separate, doing so with tears in their eyes.

One day, the children decided to play near the river pulling the calves' tails and catching the young animals with an urga ( a kind of whip or lasso). Children who recently came from khankokh land had a good whip and could throw it well. We didn't have a genuine urga so we had to use one that was made of pooe quality wood. Nevertheless, we did our best to compete with these children.

Our work began when the sun rose and the horned cattle had their fill along the river. We often had no idea that time was passing. The oxen and their young under one half years of age were urged on by a whip and caught with a lasso. During the noontime gathering of the sheep, our parents started to look for their children. They followed us on horseback, and when they found us, they slapped us and made us weep. They then broke our urgas and took our straps away. We were punished by being made to be quiet for several days, which was unusual for our settlement, and when I complained to my mother, things became worse. Later I was beaten. When children disobey and don't care for the herds properly, adults punish them.

In our area Aliudai was an awesome, frightening, fat old man who punished his children severely when they misbehaved. I did not like him because once I saw him beat Radnaabazaar. One day when Aliudai came to the house, my mother restrained the dogs, and I had the task of resaddling his horse. I first took a dried sheep's bladder, blew it up, and lightly tied it into a pillow and slipped it under Aliudai's saddle cushion. Then, with my friends, I filled his left stirrup with cow dung and as quickly as possible went to hide. Aliudai soon dismounted and went to speak to my mother. I felt very guilty about what I had done. My mother told me not to fool around with older people and said that Aliudai would not punish me. Hearing that, I was moved to tears and I said to my mother that I did it to get back at Aliudai for beating Radnabazaar. My mother then caressed me and sniffed my head. [Especially older Mongolians sniffed the head, cheeks, forehead etc. of those they loved, just as we kiss]. Later, Aliudai behaved toward us as if nothing had happened and awarded us a sugar loaf. After that incident, I have learned to respect older people.

Helpful Children

Old people like obedient children with gentle ears and at the same time we children greatly value the labor of our elders. Children search for dung together and fill their baskets cooperatively. They not only fill the dung basket but heap it up to overflowing, which is very satisfying. Our parents have always told us that a full basket of dung insured a full bowl of food.

In the evening, while the kids and goats were tethered, we willingly separated our herds from our neighbors and we recognized not only our own herds, but those of our neighbors as well. One man looked after all five types of herds [ sheep, goats, horses, camels and cows] and the calves and lambs. People who lost cattle put out the word, and if you had not noticed the strays in your herds, it was most embarrassing. When the neighbors said "Your children have a good eye for cattle," it was like getting a big prize. We all worked together shearing the sheep, castrating the livestock, making felt, and cutting the grass in the meadow. We proudly participated in all of these activities, and woke early in the morning to get to work. My parents said: "Look and learn" and made an example of hard work.

When I was about 10 years old, I finished the fourth class with honors. Some of my class mates went on to the seven year school in the Tsetsen Uul County but the majority of us wished to go to the countryside to herd. Parents were pleased when their children finished primary school and doors to further education opened to them. But instead I opened the door to the "university of life" whose education lasts forever. Entering into the science of herding sheep was like being introduced to a thick book one never finishes.

A Boy with the Eye of a Shepherd

In my childhood, I was encouraged when adults said to me "You have quite a good eye for the herds," and maybe these words shaped the long road of my life and work. Once I saw the herds, I could always recognize them. I always tried to help people who had lost their cattle. "The herders should know all the cattle individually " our father had always said. I knew that I wanted to go to the countryside to be a herdsman and I thought neither about the successes of herding nor did I regret not completing my education.

Difficult Obstacles

A herder appears to lead a simple life but I knew that there were obstacles. In 1968, a year of serious snowstorms, we cared for the animals day and night, but, still, many died. With so many cattle dying, the value of those who do live becomes higher. As my father noted. "The men fell seven times and rose eight" which means that things didn't always stay so bad. After a year of hard work, things did, indeed, get better.

Herders usually get drenched in the cold rain both day and night, and in the morning snowstorms one often felt as if one had neither eyes nor ears. Sometimes there was nice weather and on a lovely day one could even say that herding was enjoyable. But, when the winter sun barely shone and the icy winds blew, I often asked myself, "Why do I live in the countryside? Who told me to live like this?" Maybe I should follow the others who had moved to the city and are working there. My classmates from school became cultured teachers, engineers, and specialists but I'm still sitting here in this severe weather in the countryside. When I see a truck driver go along the steppe kicking up the dust and a pilot in the deep blue sky like a bird, I think that I should go to a place where there are many people. But I ask myself, " How can I be most useful to my nation?" and I know that I can do that and be happy by being a herder as fate has planned for me. It has been my experience that when someone works very hard, the results are special. There are always obstacles which are difficult to overcome, but none that cannot be overcome.